


A Very Brief Engagement

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Non-SHIELD AU, Slow Dancing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma thought she was attending a family wedding as Fitz's best friend, not his fake fiancée. But now that she knows, she's going to do her best to excel at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Brief Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> bioforensics on Tumblr requested "fitzsimmons + any trope you can think of (fake dating, impromptu kissing, sharing a bed, whatever)" and this came outta that. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to ardentaislinn for her help as always!

“What a fascinating story, Diana,” said Jemma with a forced smile. She tried to catch Fitz’s eye beside her, but he seemed engrossed in the program in his hands. The sound of the music changing flooded her with relief, and she shifted her body to face forward in the pew, away from Fitz’s all-too-gregarious great aunt. “I think the ceremony is starting.”

As the music swelled, Jemma leaned into Fitz’s side, poking him in the ribs. “You could have saved me from the unending tale of Aunt Diana’s shih tzu’s allergies, you know,” she whispered as bridesmaids and groomsmen began to stroll down the aisle.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the program in his lap. He kept thumbing at the corner of it, folding it back and forth, and Jemma frowned.

“Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? ‘Course.”

She wanted to press, to pry-- it was her right as his best friend, after all-- but just then, the wedding march began, and everyone in the church rose to their feet. At the first sight of the glowing bride, Fitz’s eyes misted over (ever the romantic, that one) and Jemma forgot all about his reticence.

Until the reception, that is.

“Jemma! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” An older woman, perhaps another great aunt, greeted her with a congenial hug, which Jemma stiltedly returned. The woman pulled back and held her at arm’s length to get a good look at her. “We’ve heard _everything_ about you.”

Jemma giggled nervously. “Not actually everything, I hope!”

“ _Everything_ ,” the woman repeated. Her gaze drifted to Fitz, and she gave him a broad wink. “But I’m sure you two want a few minutes to yourselves after such a wonderful ceremony. It was so romantic, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Jemma agreed, shooting a glance at Fitz, who seemed to be dutifully avoiding her eyes-- again. The woman bustled away after a quick pinch of Fitz’s cheek. “What was she on about?”

“Never can be sure, can you?” Fitz chuckled, but his voice sounded thin, and Jemma narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply, but was intercepted by a man she recognized from the ceremony-- the father of the bride.

“You must be Jemma Simmons,” the balding man said, shaking her hand heartily with both of his own. “Such a pleasure. We’re so glad you could be here to celebrate with us.”

“I’m happy to be here, Mr. Gregory,” she said earnestly. “It was a beautiful wedding.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled to himself for a moment before shrugging. “Cost an arm and a leg, but it’s all worth it for love, eh? But I’m sure your father knows all about that. From what I hear, you’re next.” Before Jemma could respond, Mr. Gregory leaned in conspiratorially. “Do the old man a favor and go for the DJ, won’t you? I’ll be paying off this band well into retirement.”

And with that, he was off to greet another guest, leaving Jemma to stare at Fitz in confusion.

“Fitz,” she began.

“Hmm?” He still seemed distracted.

“The last couple of interactions we’ve had have been awfully peculiar, haven’t they?”

“Hmm."

She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “What on earth is going on here, Fitz?”

Finally, _finally_ , he let himself meet her eyes with his guilty ones. He grimaced. “I may have done something.”

Jemma furrowed her brow. “What did you do?”

“I… may have told my family that you were my girlfriend.”

“What?”

“...and that we were living together.”

“What?”

He winced. “And that we were engaged.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You really should get your hearing checked, Simmons; I’ve been telling you that for ages,” he said, with a laugh that rang false.

Jemma felt like the room had dimmed, the music and the din of the guests greeting each other somehow quietened, and her sole focus was on the fact that Fitz, her best friend, who she had never even kissed, let alone agreed to marry, had told his entire family that she was his _fiancée._

“I don’t have a ring,” was somehow all she thought to say.

He sighed. “I told them it was a spur of the moment thing. Obviously you’ll wear my mum’s.” His eyes widened. “I mean, if we were _actually_ engaged, you would. If you wanted. Um.”

Jemma’s vision began to uncloud, and she took him in, the way he bit his lip, the way he hunched over like he thought she might smack him, or at least yell at him. She shook her head. “Why did you do that?”

“You know how, in romantic comedies, single women always have families who interrogate them about when they’re going to settle down and get married?”

“Yes. You’ve certainly made me watch enough of them.”

“They’re just _on TV a lot_ and I’m _too lazy to change the channel_ , Simmons, honestly--”

“Please continue.”

“So, my family is like that.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you’re the heroine in a romantic comedy?”

“No,” he huffed. “But-- yes, basically.”

“So… you told them we were engaged… so that they’d get off your back?” Amusement was beginning to win in the war of emotions within her.

He bit his lip again. “I suppose?”

A slow grin formed on Jemma’s face, and she swayed closer to him. “Well, then.”

“Yes?”

“I guess we’ll have to give them a show.”

“Wha--?” he began to ask, but she’d already wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips against his and kissing him deeply. He made a noise of surprise against her mouth, but his hands flew to her waist as if on instinct, and he kissed her back almost right away. When they broke apart, he was a particularly appealing shade of pink, she was slightly out of breath, and at least six aunts and cousins were watching with jealousy etched on their faces.

For the first hour of the reception, Jemma threw herself into the task of being Fitz’s fake fiancée. And she was _fantastic_ at it, if she said so herself. She charmed Uncle David over canapés, discussed flower arrangements with Aunt Ruth the florist, and assured Grandma Gwyndolyn that she’d see grandchildren in her lifetime. By the time the cake was cut, she’d begun to feel a bit of a thrill at the subterfuge of it all. She’d never considered herself to be a good liar by any standard, but this lie felt simple. Easy. Effortless.

She scooted her chair closer to Fitz’s as they watched the happy couple’s first dance. “By the way, I told your cousin, the redhead, what’s her name--”

“Susan,” he supplied.

“Yes, Susan! I told Susan that we’d have dinner with her and her husband once we’re all back in London. I hope that’s okay.”

Fitz blinked at her. “You mean, you promised my cousin that my fake fiancée and I would join them for a double-date?”   

Jemma nodded happily, her eyes still on the couple drifting across the dance floor. “We should let them pick the place. She seemed so excited about it.”

He frowned, his jaw clenching and unclenching, though she barely noticed. “Simmons-- Jemma--” he began, but the band leader announced that it was time for all the couples to join the newlyweds in the center of the room. Neither Fitz nor Jemma made a move to go up, but Great Aunt Theresa called out to them from the other side of their table.

“Leo, show her how us Fitzes do it!”

Fitz looked from Jemma to Aunt Theresa and back, his mouth hanging slightly open, and then sighed. He held out a hand. “May I have this dance? I guess?”

“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic about it,” she muttered. “But of course.”

She let him lead her onto the dance floor, where she slid her arms around his neck-- almost like when she’d kissed him on impulse earlier, but also quite different. Particularly because instead of relaxing into her touch, he remained stiff, unyielding. He swayed them back and forth among the other couples, but seemed entirely uncomfortable doing so.

“The band is quite talented,” she remarked, trying to break the unnamed tension between them.

“Mmhmm.”

“The lead singer gave me his card earlier. Said we should book them for our wedding.” She chuckled, letting her fingers play with the curls at the back of his neck, which seemed to cause him to stiffen even more. “Guess the news of our engagement traveled far and wide.”

“Guess so.”

Jemma sighed, and stopped moving to stand still, eyes boring into his. “Fitz. What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? First you tell your entire extended family that we’re _getting married,_  then you _don’t tell me about it_ , then I agree to pretend and suddenly you clam up.” She shrugged incredulously. “What on earth is the problem?”

He opened his mouth to respond, his blue eyes blazing bright.

“Dance floors are for dancing, not for standing!” called out Fitz’s cousin Greta as she and her boyfriend twirled by. His mouth closing in a tight line, Fitz began to lead Jemma around the room again.

“Well?” she prompted him.

“You’re too good at this!” The words seemed to burst out of him, and he shut his mouth immediately, like he hadn’t expected them to come out. Jemma adjusted her grip on the back of his neck and frowned.

“How can one be _too good_ at something?”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to relish being too good at everything.” She detected both annoyance and affection in his voice, and it left her bewildered. What had she done wrong? Or too right, as the case may be?

“Why are you upset, then?”

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at her, determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I told them we were together. But then you were so-- you’re so good at being my fiancée. It’s like it’s real.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I don’t know!” He said it too loud, then looked around quickly to make sure they hadn’t disturbed anyone. “I don’t know,” he said in a lower voice. “I don’t know why you’re so good at being my fiancée. Or at charming my relatives. Or at acting like you-- like you’re in love with me. Or at k-- kissing me.”

Jemma took in a slow breath, and felt the faintest blush grace her cheeks. Their kiss _had_ been quite good. “I just don’t see why any of this is a problem,” she said softly.

“Because you’re _not_ my fiancée,” he said, a pained look on his face. “We’re _not_ together”

“That’s true.”

The song came to an end, and they stopped dancing, but he didn’t drop his hands from her waist so she didn’t move hers from his shoulders. They stood there, tucked in an alcove off to the side of the dance floor, eyes locked.

Finally, Fitz sucked in a shaky breath, and spoke.

“So why is it so easy to pretend that we are?”

Jemma couldn’t take her eyes off his, and felt her breath coming in just as ragged and slow. She blinked once, then twice.

“I don’t know,” she said weakly.

“You don’t?”

She huffed. “Do you?”

“I have a hypothesis,” he said quietly, and she realized they’d stepped even closer together, so close that their chests were nearly touching. She knew that they were still standing in a spot where half the reception was likely to be watching them, but she couldn’t seem to move. She licked her lips involuntarily.

“You do?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Should we test it?” Their voices were just whispers, and he nodded again, swallowing. She watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, then locked her eyes on his, affecting a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

He leaned down to close the gap between them-- he didn’t have to go far, as they’d drifted so close together-- and brushed his lips over hers once, then twice. She let one hand creep up into his hair and captured his lips, relishing in the feel of his hands gripping her hips, his tongue ghosting over the seam of her mouth. It was much like their earlier kiss, and yet so very different at the same time.

Finally they broke apart, and he was just as pink as he’d been after their first kiss, and she was just as out of breath. But something had shifted entirely.

“Get a room, you two,” said Aunt Diana, rattling the ice cubes in her empty glass on her way to the bar, and Jemma felt herself blush to match Fitz.

“I feel like I could use some air. Could you?” Jemma asked. He nodded, and she led him off the dance floor out onto the empty balcony of the reception hall. Once there, she leaned her elbows against the railing, looking out onto the lush greenery below lit only by the moon and stars.

“So,” he said eloquently.

“So.”

“Sim-- Jemma. You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He matcher her pose, leaning against the railing, but he chewed on his lower lip nervously. “Of course I do. You’re my best friend in the world.”

“I just told them we were together because they wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”

“Right.”

“But tonight has been…”

“Nice,” she supplied.

“Yeah. Very nice.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe when we get back to London… we could go to dinner sometime. Without Susan and her husband, I mean,” she added. Her gaze flitted to him, and she watched him nod slowly, the hint of a smile on his face.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

She turned her attention back toward the dark expanse of countryside in front of her, trying to hide her grin. “Good.”

“After all,” he said, and with it, he drifted closer to her so that his arm brushed hers where they both leaned against the railing. “That’s what engaged couples do, isn’t it?” He was close now, barely a breath away. “So, for tonight-- will you still be my fiancée?”

“Of course.” Her voice was soft. She smiled, full of fondness for him. “Then once we’re back home, we’ll go back to being best friends.”

“Oh.” He inched away from her.

Noting the disappointment on his face, Jemma grabbed his hand, then moved to pull him toward the doors of the glowing reception hall. “And perhaps something entirely new, as well,” she whispered in his ear.

His answering grin told her that finally, _finally_ , they were both on the same page-- and both fully aware of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
